


chip

by myosotises



Series: speak low if you speak love [1]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora (She-Ra) has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Canon Compliant, Canon Lesbian Character, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, How Do I Tag, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, I'm not good at talking about feelings, Love, Nightmares, Post Season 5, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Trauma, Truly I don't know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26040832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myosotises/pseuds/myosotises
Summary: It starts the same as it always does.An empty corridor, stretching out and out and out, long and dark and bare. She doesn’t know where she’s going, her heartbeat thrumming impatiently in her ears, so she stops running for a moment, just to catch her breath, but, “Adora?”Adora has a nightmare.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Series: speak low if you speak love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1890316
Comments: 9
Kudos: 154





	chip

**Author's Note:**

> Not quite sure how I feel about this one, thoughts or feedback are welcome!

It starts the same as it always does.

An empty corridor, stretching out and out and out, long and dark and bare. She doesn’t know where she’s going, her heartbeat thrumming impatiently in her ears, so she stops running for a moment, just to catch her breath, but, “ _Adora_?”

 _Catra_. Her voice is shaky, uncertain, _afraid_.

It’s hard to pinpoint the source, her name echoing off the narrow walls looming over her but she _has_ to find Catra.

So she keeps running. Down and down and down.

Eventually, in what might be hours or mere seconds, she stumbles into somewhere else. A hollow room, vast and expansive beyond her view, tinted a shade of dark green that makes her feel sick. There’s a sensation of eyes on her, peering at her, _studying_ her. And a chill both in the air and in her blood, as quiet—deceivingly quiet—footsteps pad up behind her.

“ _Hello, Adora_.”

Catra, again. But it’s wrong, off, monotonous. The words are dissonant, and if Adora’s world was a terrifying melody before, the two words are a pair of claws shredding the sheet of music.

But her body betrays her, turning around against her will as Catra steps forward to meet her. Hands—ones she’s loved, ones she’s held—rise to lower a hood and then she can fully see the girl she loves.

Catra smiles at her—the action at odds with the bile in the back of Adora’s throat because of how familiar it is, how well she knows it even though it’s been years since Catra smiled at her like that—and her eyes glow green, that awful, terrible colour.

 _This is wrong_ , she thinks, struggling to comprehend what’s going on— _how_ or _why_ this is going on—but her mind is already pushing that off to the side, trying to direct her attention to the threat in front of her now. _Prime_ , it corrects her, _Danger_.

“Catra—”

“You broke my heart,” she says, and her tone is flippant, as if her words aren’t shards of ice lodging into Adora’s chest. “But he has made it whole again.”

“You have to fight it!” she pleads, her eyes growing wet. Her throat seals up as she looks at Catra, dressed in white and hair slicked back and she has to fight to find her voice. _This isn’t right_. “Catra, please—”

“Look at me, Adora,” she continues, like Adora’s words aren’t registering. Like they don’t exist, _she_ doesn’t exist. Her eyes are still that gut-wrenching green, blank and desolate, but her gaze feels like it’s pressing in on Adora, constricting her lungs. “Don’t you see? This is for the best.”

“ _Please_ ,” she chokes out, tears running down her face. “Catra, it’s _me_ , please, I—”

She tilts her head, the unnerving smile stretching across her expression. And without speaking, she flexes her hands. Even through the blur of her tears, Adora sees as her claws unsheathe themselves, glinting dangerously.

“Come into the light with me, Adora.” She holds out a hand, sharp-tipped and deadly. “Prime has given me peace, something you could never do. I’m happy here. You could be happy too.”

Adora feels frozen, like her limbs are growing numb and soon everything would fall and shatter to pieces, leaving only the jagged shards of her heart and Catra’s placid smile. “No,” she manages. “No, Catra, I’m not leaving without you.”

Catra sighs, lowering her hand. “Oh, _Adora_.” Her stomach twists as she hears the secondary tone underneath the words, the drone of Prime’s voice blending into Catra’s.

And then she isn’t thinking at all, because Catra leaps for her, claws raking through the air towards Adora. She jumps back, dodging and ducking, trying not to hurt her back until the edge of the platform slips out from her heel—when did she reach the end?—and a stark void reaches up for her.

Catra lets out a laugh, Prime’s own sickening chuckle bleeding into the sound. “How long will you drag this out?” they croon in unison, and Adora’s vision flips and dims. When she blinks away the gloom, it’s Catra on the rim now, the haunting abyss yawning behind her.

“ _Catra_!” The scream tears itself from her throat and she tries to rush forward to pull her away from the edge—hasn’t she done this before?—but there’s something touching her shoulder now. The contact doesn’t seem to be firm or harsh, but when Adora looks to her side, the hand is tinged with dark grey, the edged point of Prime’s claw resting against her jacket. The grip seems to clench tighter as she realizes that he’s holding onto her, stopping her from reaching Catra—it’s a threat, from the way the metal digs into the fabric until she can feel the blunt pressure against her skin. “No!”

She sneers, her face contorting enough for Prime’s disdain to appear, obvious and sharp and _painful_ , because that expression doesn’t belong on _Catra_. “This is all your fault,” she says, and even as the slick undertone of Prime’s control fades by the time the last syllable leaves her lips—disappearing like the suffocating green in her eyes—it doesn’t matter, because then she’s stepping backwards, where there’s nowhere left to step.

Her eyes, wide and scared and _herself_ again, land on her.

And Catra falls.

Awareness doesn’t dawn on her steadily like it usually does, as sure and slow as the moonrise in the morning—rather, Adora lurches violently from the nightmare, her consciousness slamming back into her body before her mind recognizes what’s real. Her legs are twitching as if she’s still running after Catra, despite the fact that she never was.

“Adora,” Catra says softly, and she jerks away from the voice, turning to face her. Catra’s already watching her, sitting cross-legged and patient beside her with a hand clenched in her lap. Most importantly, her eyes are gleaming blue and gold. _Not_ green.

She notices then that her vision is hazy, tears streaming down her face as she sobs soundlessly. Her forehead feels clammy. And she’s shaking. When did she start shaking?

“Adora,” Catra repeats, her other hand hovering slightly above Adora’s shoulder as if she’d been touching it moments before. Moments before she’d shook her off herself, Adora realizes. “Are you with me?”

Still gasping for breath, she nods, once. She closes, then opens her hands, reminding herself she’s back in control of her body now, before sitting up. Then she notices—belatedly—the sheets in disarray, the comforter shoved to the foot of the mattress and half hanging off the end.

“Sorry,” she croaks.

“Don’t be.” The reply is instant.

Catra doesn’t move as Adora turns to slide her legs off the bed but Melog—also awake—straightens to follow her with their head, their mane and tail glowing brighter as she shuffles on unsteady legs over to the waterfall. Responding to the movement in the room, the lantern Glimmer had enchanted for them also lights up from the dim flicker it cast before, enough to illuminate Adora’s path. Catra had asked Glimmer for it after the second night of nightmares—for both of them.

With intent concentration, she dips her trembling hands into one of the many cascades flowing into the small pool before splashing the cool water onto her face. Immediately, the tightness in her chest eases, if only a bit, but she feels like there’s enough air in her lungs again. She stands there for a moment longer, letting the soreness of her eyes lessen before she turns to the table by the side.

As she grabs and fills the glass to appease the scratchiness in her throat, she hears Catra rise from the bed and walk over to join her. Her footsteps are faint but not inaudible, to make sure Adora’s informed of her actions. When she places the glass back down on the table, Catra’s standing by her side.

“Can I touch you?” Catra asks quietly.

Adora nods in assent, but the initial brush of Catra’s fingers against her arm is still tentative, inquiring. When she doesn’t flinch away again, Catra’s arms come around her slowly—with more than enough time for her to move away if she wants to, though she doesn’t—before finally gathering her in a warm embrace.

She returns the hug readily, as tears well in her eyes again. It doesn’t take much for them to break free, sliding down her cheeks as soon as she blinks.

“Who was it?” _This time_ , is how the question finishes, even as Catra doesn’t voice it.

“You,” she admits without thinking.

Right away, Catra stiffens, the arms around Adora tensing as she starts to pull away, but Adora shakes her head. Refusing to let her back up, she holds Catra even closer, though she turns her head so she can meet Catra’s gaze.

“ _Chipped_ you,” she says, apologetic. “Prime.”

Catra’s eyes soften even more with understanding, and one hand moves from clasping her own arm to Adora’s back. There, she rubs soothing circles into her shoulder blade, the contact calming. It grounds her, and she ducks her head against Catra’s neck as she explains.

“We were on his ship, I think. He wasn’t there, I couldn’t see him, but he _was_. He was watching me, and you. And you were, um, there.”

“Fighting you?” The words are a whisper, contrite even though she shouldn’t need to apologize.

“Yes.” It’s the truth. “But he was controlling you. Until…until you fell.”

Catra hums, gently, letting her know she doesn’t have to keep going. She’d regained control when that had happened in real time, and she knew what came next.

Still, “I was trying to come after you. When I pushed you away before.” _Minutes earlier._ When Catra had touched her in an attempt to wake her, the hand on her shoulder had translated into the nightmare as Prime, taunting her, stopping her. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” She shifts backwards a bit, enough to cup Adora’s cheek and look at her properly. Catra’s eyes are serious, almost glowing in the dark with her vehemence. “That was not your fault.”

“That’s not what you said in the dream.”

“Yeah, well that was your brain, Adora.” Her fingers slip through a few strands of Adora’s hair delicately as she untangles a stray knot. The slender digits are careful, tender. Adora’s chest feels heavy again. “Not me. You know I don’t blame you for what he did.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She feels tired as she says it, aching and vacant and drained. “He did it to hurt me. Because you’re important to me, because I love you.”

“And I love you, Adora, but don’t try to take credit for defying Prime.” Catra’s tone is dry and Adora musters a weak laugh. “He wanted to use me anyway, after I wasn’t useful as myself anymore. It was only a matter of time, he needed to use those stupid chips anyway. You did not cause this.”

“Hm.”

“ _You did not_ ,” she insists, forceful. “Do you hear me? Remember what Perfuma said, about dreams representing what our minds think and what we’re scared of and everything? I know you, Adora. And you did not cause this, even if you think the world revolves around you.”

That startles another laugh out of her. “I do _not_ think that.”

“Hm,” Catra echoes her from before, a faint smile glinting in her eyes. She sobers though, tilting Adora’s chin towards her. “But you know that, right? Your mind is just remembering when it was scared and it thinks of some random things. None of what happened then was your fault, and I don’t consider it to be. Neither should you.”

“Okay.” She smiles slightly, even as she lets out a long sigh. “Yeah. I know.”

“Do you?” Catra’s cupping her cheek again, and despite the connotations of the movement from others, it’s a relief from Catra. A reclaiming of its past, and a reassurement now.

She leans into the touch, turning halfway to press a kiss to Catra’s palm. “I’d prefer it if my mind started to believe it too when I’m sleeping, but yes. Thank you. I love you.”

“Good.” Catra moves in to kiss her forehead and Adora sighs again at the gesture, this time in comfort. “I love you too.”

“I would appreciate it if I stopped having them though,” she says idly, as Catra takes her hand with her own free one. “It’s not fun to keep waking up in the middle of the night.”

Catra stops leading them back to bed, turning to face her again. “Actually, last time Perfuma was here she left some of these tea blend things behind? Said they could help with calming you and stuff, and that she has her own tea ritual or something.” She clears her throat. “ _Since_ it’s the middle of the night, there aren’t that many people awake right now. We could always just, you know, sneak to the kitchen. It could help with the nightmares, maybe.”

Adora smiles uncertainly. “You don’t mind? I know it’s late, you can go back to sleep if you want.”

“Without you?” Catra squeezes her hand, already steering her towards the door. “Not a chance.”

After, when they creep back to their room and into bed—Melog following on their heels, rolling back into their spot on a large cushion near Catra’s side, purring—Adora’s nerves have eased. Mostly by Catra herself, but also in part from the warm scent of chamomile and juniper she can still smell, the thick taste of honey at the back of her throat.

As it turned out, neither of them really knew how to make tea but Perfuma had, helpfully, left notes on the sides of the containers for the herbs. Seeing as even they managed not to mess up boiling some water, they had thrown the ones that seemed to improve sleep and some honey in for good measure. Miraculously, it wasn’t terrible. Decent, even.

Adora might have to try it again should the nightmares come back. And they probably would.

Still, for now, she’s content to lie down in their bed and pull the comforter back up to her chin. She turns to stare at Catra, the slant of the moonlight through the window tracing and rounding out the sharper lines of her features. Her eyes are closed, ears folded close to her skull and expression quiet as if she’s already asleep, but the illusion falters when she peeks an eye open to look at her.

“What?”

“Nothing. I don’t know,” she whispers in response, exhaling a little. “Just…thank you, I guess.”

The blue disappears as her eye flutters shut again, and a faint smile tugs at her lips tiredly. “We look out for each other, remember?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, winding an arm around Catra to pull her in tighter. “We do.”

“D’you think it’s getting better?” she asks, Catra’s words slurring together drowsily as she leans into Adora—they’re so close now that they’re practically sharing a pillow. Not that she’s unfamiliar with it, when it was how they slept every night as kids. “You didn’t have your sword in your hands already, right?”

“Yeah, maybe,” she says, suddenly so grateful to have Catra next to her now. For everything she’d done tonight, for the fact that she was trying to find the silver lining now, for the fact that she was here and breathing and with her—and not alone on a ship in space, controlled by another.

And maybe she was right; last time she’d had a nightmare about Prime, she’d woken up with the Sword of Protection in her hands. That hadn’t made grasping her bearings any easier, and it had been Catra again who brought her away from the dream.

“Whatever it is that we need to do, we’ll figure it out,” Catra adds, lips gliding over Adora’s cheek, her voice sleepy as she speaks—Adora isn’t even sure whether she was aiming for her mouth or cheek. Her eyes are closed, anyway.

Still, her chest seems to draw taut again, though for an entirely different reason. She loves this girl so much, she thinks fondly, as a low buzz starts to emanate steadily from the middle of Catra’s chest. So she says it aloud, because she knows how important the words can be now, “I love you.”

Slowly, Catra’s tail curls around her wrist, hooked around the other girl’s waist. The gesture is slow, tired, but no less loving. “I love you too,” she murmurs, and her fingers, adjacent to Adora’s shoulder due to their hug, begin to draw circles into her skin again. “Try to rest now, ‘kay? You know how Sparkles gets if we sleep in during Alliance meetings.”

“Maybe we should do it anyway.”

Catra’s chuckle is little more than a huff as she dozes off. Her fingers slow. “Whatever you want, Adora.”

Her even breathing lulls Adora into joining her, a sound she was well-acquainted with back in the Horde and a sound she’s learned to remember again. When she drifts off, her dreams are welcoming this time; of blue and gold, laughter and warmth, promises and love.

There are no chips in sight.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly I don't even know where the series name came from, but apparently (according to Google) it's a music group. So thanks for the contribution guys.  
> I'm planning (so far) to make a second part about Catra having a nightmare this time?? We'll see how it goes


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